O D Y S S E Y
by TheGlassKnight
Summary: Let's face it...every girl wonders what it would be like to be in the Outsiders, right in the beginning. But don't let those Mary-Sues fool you. This is what it would REALLY be like. Trust me, you won't be disappointed!
1. Chapter 1

**So this is pretty much my newest interest. I'm basically tying wires in my brain to figure out what it would really be like if a girl from 2011 really did wake up to find herself in the world of the Outsiders. No cliches, just honesty :] Enjoy!**

**Sorry if this chapter is really, really short. They will be longer- MUCH longer later on.**

**And oh yes, in case if this isn't clear, I don't own _the Outsiders. _****But I'm pretty sure that's common sense connecting there for ya, haha. **

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><p>O N E<p>

The August night was sticky hot, and my covers were spilling off my bed. A siren wailed somewhere in the stretch of New York outside my apartment building, chorused by laughter of a couple of night-crawling kids from in front of the lobby door.

I sighed at the book laying on my lap, its paperback cover fresh and glossy, the black-and-white photograph of a boy in a leather jacket, his face covered from the words "The Outsiders" scrawled in old-fashioned text.

"Okay, let's see…" I peeled the book open, it's binding still stiff, and flipped a crisp page. "Chapter one…"

Yawning loudly, I held the flashlight out in my right hand, its beams glinting on my legs stretched out before me on the bed. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be reading so late on a school night, but curiosity defeated my usual loyalty to my parents' rules. Everyone, well, just my close friends, were babbling about the Outsiders and what an amazing book it was. All I'd heard for the past three weeks was pretty much "Sophie, you need to read it, the guys are soooo hot" and "Oh my gosh, a soda-pop is hot" or something of the sort. I actually wasn't really all interested in the book after hearing those kinds of reviews, but when one of my more sensible friends told me the book took place in the late 1960's, and that the plot line was very interesting, I became genuinely interested. And, okay, okay, I'll confess I was a _tiny _bit curious about the so-called "hot" boys. I am a girl, after all, though most people find that hard to believe, since I'm so completely different from most girls around my age. I'm a little lost on my purpose in life, and I'm a bit all over the place when it comes to my likes and dislikes and what I want to be and stuff. But that doesn't make me a boy. At least, I don't think it does.

I began to read my book, but I had barely gotten past the first page when I suddenly heard a loud shatter of glass that sent me scrambling to flip the flashlight off and tuck it and the book under my pillow. My breathing heavy, I listened as the angry voices of my parents were thrown back and forth, sometimes layering over each other. I sighed deeply and threw my pillow over my head. I knew exactly what they were arguing about. It was always the same thing at least five times a week. Money.

I used to cry every time I heard my parents quarrel. But after a couple of years, you get used to it a lot. Now it just seemed like they were having a yelling competition, stuttering over their sloppy sentences that made no sense except to themselves. They always fought about money, and nothing else. Apparently, they had both made lots of financial mistakes as kids, and the mistakes became more frequent later on, and now they were seriously paying the price. Literally.

As the shouting subsided, I grabbed the flashlight and book and tucked the pillow back under my head. I really envied my older siblings. They were all in upstate New York, living free, jovial lives, without having to be burdened with the stress from their parents. Unlike me, who had to deal with it every week. You might not think it's terrible, but you don't know what its like. Sometimes I felt older than I really was, slipping into their worries to the point where I became stingy and over-conservative with my spending. My parents were running around in circles, making the same mistakes at all the wrong places. And I had to follow them.

I picked the book back up and turned to the first page, inhaling that papery scent new books always have. _Geez, my friend probably only had this book for a week before she lent it to me, but she was already pouring her heart out about it. Is it really that good?_

I yawned again, cracked my neck, and started back right from the beginning:

"_When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…"_

I can't remember exactly, but I think I reached the end of the first chapter, when that boy, Sodapop, was telling Ponyboy about his love for some chick, Sandy. When I neared the end of the first chapter, I heard my parents' voices kick off again, this time, louder, angrier, more furious. I could hear them clearly now.

"—_and if we had saved up all that f— money from—"_

"_Now don't bring up that blasted rental idea again like—"_

"_We wouldn't be in debt if you had just listened to me—"_

"—_Sophie had just been born; you expected me to rent off the first two floors to complete strangers?"_

I groaned loudly. Sometimes I felt like every single financial bump in my parents' lives was somehow caused by me. Whether it was my birth or my first day of school or _something, _it was always me.

I rubbed my temple to soothe the head-ache that was forming there. I tried to focus on the next page in the Outsiders, but the words began to blur together. Pretty soon, a sweet silence wafted over my ears and cuddled my entire body, and I fell sound asleep.

And when I would wake up, I would find myself lost in an odyssey, one so completely real that it just had to be fake.

_Right?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two :D THE ODYSSEY BEGINS. Lool. By the way, if you've never read _the Odyssey_, you really should. It's a brilliant piece of Homer's work. But that's just me being a nerd :P Haha... oh and thanks to the two people who reviewed, you guys are awesome!**

**And, needless to say, I don't own the Outsiders, and I never will. **

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><p>T W O<p>

_I need a little more time._

That's the first thought I faced when I felt the rough hand of my dad slapping my face gently, as if trying to wake me up. My eyelids fluttered open to be greeted by hot, orange sunlight that quickly faded to outline a blurred silhouette of a man I did not know, one that wasn't my dad at all. But that didn't register in my mind.

"Mmm…" I rolled over in my bed, which felt miraculously stiff and grainy.

"Young man!" an urgent voice rang. It was slightly Southern male voice, one that I knew belonged to no one. "Young man," he repeated. "Are you okay?"

The person began shaking my shoulders and slapping my face harder. That knocked the blurriness out of me, and my vision became clear. There was a fat man kneeling over me, clad in a retro pinstripe suit and huge, out-of-date glasses. An old fashioned red Mustang was parked behind him, dead center of the road, the front door swung open in an urgent manner. He looked worried.

"YOUNG MAN, ARE YOU OKAY?" he now shouted. It really hit me then that the "young man" was really me. That surprised me, considering despite my boy-cut hair and boyish features, I'd never been mistaken for a man before.

"Wha?" I muttered drowsily, rubbing my eyes. "Am I—of course I'm okay! Why wouldn't I be?"

He gave me a quizzical look, and moved aside so that I could stand up and stretch. I had this weird feeling in my body—like I was detached from everything except my mind. Suddenly, I caught sight of my surroundings. I had just stood up from a concrete sidewalk that lined an uphill road clotted by unruly trees. I began to panic. _This isn't New York! How the heck did I reach outside? This is impossible! _But then logic hit me, and I gleefully remembered that this was probably all a strange dream, one of the rare ones that I could control. _Oh…that explains that lost feeling in my body. _

I spotted a couple of stoplights at the tip of the road, which signaled an intersection. I started towards it, but suddenly the retro man grabbed my arm.

"_Do—you—need—to—go—to the—hospital_?" he said slowly, annunciating every word sharply as if I was hard of hearing.

"Of course I don't," I said, bewildered at the frantic look in the man's eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because," he said rather dryly. "I just hit you with the side of my car."

"What?" I shook out my arms, but my nerves were still numb. I stood up a bit straighter, feeling proud. "I didn't feel any pain!"

I waved the man and began walking up the hill.

"Young man," he called after me crisply. "Y-young man?"

I swiveled around, walking backwards. "I'm not a man!"

He gave me a strange, alien look, and shook his head before hopping back into his car and driving away. The gust of the car stirred some brown leaves at my feet.

"What a basket case…" I muttered.

When I reached the intersection, my jaw dropped. There were vast groups of shopping centers, only get this: they were all vintage. I'm talking 50's or 60's kind of vintage. All the cars that breezed by were classic, like the kind the retro guy had, and the people in it were classic, too. It amazed me. It was kind of like some oldies-Utopia.

"This is so creepy," I said thoughtfully. I shook my head. "I really need to stop eating pickles before bedtime."

I turned left and walked past an old-fashioned store called Woolworths and a whole bunch more. Two girls, dressed entirely in high-waisted, foofy skirts that matched their bouncy hair walked past me. Just as they were a foot or two away, they started giggling. I turned around, and they were both blushing and turning back at me.

_They think I'm a boy, _I said, a frown forming on my face. I could see where the confusion came from about my gender—I'd never been anything real curvy or whatnot—but I was surprised the retro guy and the blushing girls didn't notice my small height. Even for a fifteen year old _girl, _I'm pretty small. Suddenly, I had a strange idea. What if I _was _a boy? What if this was one of those dreams where I changed my gender?

I quickly looked down. Well, I was dressed pretty unisexual—dark jeans and a plaid button down. But…

I briskly cupped my hands under my chest and felt boobs. Okay, so I _felt them_, but just to be sure…I peeked under my shirt. Okay. I had boobs. Very, very small ones, but that was as per usual. So I _was_ a girl. _But what about my face? Did that change?_

All of a sudden I bumped into something stocky. I looked up immediately and there was a guy walking with two of his friends, and three of them in leather jackets and faded blue jeans. He saw me with my finger pulling my shirt in peeking position and gave me a puzzled look. His friends looked disgusted.

"Just, uh, checking?" I said timidly with a little smile.

They rolled their eyes and brushed past me. _Great, even in my dreams I'm a dweeb. _

I passed by a sloppily-parked, square-ish car and I stared at my reflection in the dark window. Okay. So I looked the same, too. The same long nose, the same small mouth, the same plain brown eyes that resemble murky water. So why did everyone seem to assume I was a boy?

I sighed and walked around, observing the strange reality of this dream. Despite being detached from most feeling in my body, everything around me was so alive and accurately realistic. Generally, in my dreams, cartoon characters and long-lost teachers always seem to make their appearance. But this was actually realistic. I liked it.

A loud, startling roar burst from behind me, and I spun around quickly to see a neat and tidy red Corvair filled with a bunch of boys yelling like hooligans. I could make out preppy vests and plaid shirts. How nerdy. I rolled my eyes way up to the sky and then glared at the car, watching them flip their middle fingers up at a couple of passerby on the opposite side of the road.

_Wait a minute, _I thought hastily, my eyes widening. The old cars. The leather jackets. The preppy vests. I was dreaming of living in the world of that book I was reading. I was dreaming that I was in the 1960's. Yes, that _had _to be it. And no wonder people thought I was a boy. At the time, girls didn't wear jeans and plaid shirts like guys did.

I grinned. _Damn, this is pretty accurate._ I felt like I was literally right in the 1960's—physically, mentally there.

But a few seconds after, when the Corvair turned a risky left, I immediately frowned as a new thought washed over me. _If this is the 1960's_…I raked through my memory, all the way back to the beginning of _The Outsiders. _Didn't Ponyboy get jumped by Socs in—

I didn't even finish my thought when I pounced down the road, trying to follow the fancy car. I kept thinking what I dumb thing I was doing, trying to stop a bunch of older guys from beating up a fourteen year old kind. But it _was _a dream. And I wasn't exactly in my right state of mind.

I ran left down the road, my throat itching for air and water and my lungs burning. There was a sign signaling the approaching of a movie house, and I knew right away that not only was I in the 1960's, but I was in the world of _the Outsiders_, too. The car was parked in the center of the road, the doors open, the seats vacant. A mumbled voice came from the distance. Oh crap. They were probably already beating the poor kid up.

That thought came a little early. As I neared closer to the car, I could hear the voices clearer now. "Need a hair cut, Greaser?"

"…No."

I tried to run faster, but I had slowed down a bit since I was at loss for air. My legs felt sore, probably the first feeling I felt in my entire dream. I stopped to catch some air, and, thinking that maybe my physical body had a cramp, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to wake back up. But it didn't happen, so I had no choice but to be "hero for the dream."

I entered the vacant lot, and what I saw would've made my skin crawl in fear and disgust if I didn't think I was dreaming. There they were, those older guys, punching Ponyboy in the stomach and kicking him. He was hollering real loudly, and it made my ears hurt.

"How'd you like that haircut to begin just below the chin?"

In all my non-realistic bravery, I shouted, "Hey!" and ran towards the Socs, pushing one of them, who was in a blue plaid shirt, as hard as I could, making him stagger back a bit. He gave me a surprised look, but that quickly subsided into anger.

"Beat it, kid," he snarled. "Or else."

Two of his friends suddenly came to the Soc's side. Ponyboy, from down on the ground, cussed, and another Soc kicked him.

"Leave him alone," I said firmly.

The Soc grinned crookedly. "Who do you think you are, huh? Some kind of hero?"

And then he pushed me, hard on my shoulders. I almost fell back, but I regained my posture. I could see one of the Socs swinging a switchblade freely in his hands. It was tainted with some blood. _Oh, brother. They've already got him. _

"I said to _leave him alone_!" I shouted, but the Socs laughed.

"You think you're so tough, huh? _Huh?_" I backed up a bit as he came near me. Then, his face suddenly twisted into anger and he pushed me square in the chest so hard that I fell on Ponyboy's leg.

I cursed under my breath. The Soc looked down on his hands and then back at me, a mixture of disbelief. I knew exactly why. He pointed a shaking finger at me and raised his eyebrows.

"He's—she's—it's a gi—"

He was interrupted by new shouts and the heavy pounding of footsteps, and he and his crew began running away. One Soc dropped his switchblade, and I picked it up gingerly. Boy, they didn't sell ones as sharp as these before. My dad collected blades, and he would've loved to see this.

Two men now came running towards me, and I recognized them right away. Both of them were very handsome, but Soda was a bit more stop-and-look worthy and Darry looked like a real superhero out of a comic.

Darry leaned beside Pony, shot me what seemed like an expressionless look. Before I could open my mouth to say something, though, I heard a car speed by. It was the Socs', and for whatever reason, they had decided to drive around the theatre before escaping.

"SAVE YOURSELF, CHARLIE," one of them screamed. I blinked. _Who was Charlie? _

"We're sorry man!" another shouted. They were looking at me. _They think _I'm_ Charlie? _

Suddenly, the wires in my brain connected faster than I could think. They were trying to make it seem like I was their friend, one who was with them and helping them in beating up Ponyboy, and that they'd had to leave me behind. They wanted for me to get beat up, even though one of them knew I was a girl. I suddenly felt my palms get real itchy and sweaty and I wanted to explain really quickly but there was a lump in my throat. It was like watching a movie—I had no control and I stayed silent though I didn't want to. I watched as Darry's eyes flickered from the Socs' car to my face, then to the cut-up Ponyboy who was still choking up over his words and then at the switchblade in my hand.

"I didn't do it," I said quickly, dropping the blade as if it was a hot potato.

Darry's eyes burned dangerously and before I could even think, he swung his fist back and punched me square in the face.

"_Oh, God!" _I cried out. I'd never been punched before, and with all the violence on T.V., punching seems as easy as playing golf and twice as gentle. But damn did that Darrel Curtis pack a punch. I felt warm tears well in my eyes and the entire side of my face exploded and throbbed in pain. I landed on the floor, and the entire world began to swing. I started bawling like a baby.

"It wasn't him!" I heard Pony blurt quickly to Darry. _You're a little late in telling him, Pony! _I started crying harder, for no particular reason except for it hurt so badly. The punch, I mean.

I looked up at Darry, and he still looked like he enjoyed giving me that punch, with his icy eyes that showed no regret or apology. I heard more footsteps, a couple of words jostled, and once again, everything was a blur.

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><p><strong>That's it for now :D Review and subscribe :] <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Here it is!**

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><p>T H R E E<p>

"Wake up, kid," said a soothing voice. It sounded just like my mother's. As she gently shook me awake, I groaned and put a hand on my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut tighter to help soothe the awful headache brewing in my brain.

"Oh, Mom," I whispered, breathing shakily. "Mommy, I had the worst dream."

I waited for her to say something, anything, but her voice adverted to someone else in the room, "Doc, is this normal?"

"Yup," said a good natured, bubbly male voice. "He should be back to normal in an hour or so. He just has to wear off the shock."

"Alright, thank you, Doc."

"No problem, Mr. Curtis. But next time, tell your brother to be careful where he swings his punches, hmm?"

It took me a minute, but I soon opened my eyes and gasped. It wasn't my mother's hand on my face. It was Soda's. I could see him staring thoughtfully at me, and I shrieked. My eyes darted around. I was in a strange room, lying on a plushy mattress. I could hear crickets chirping outside.

"Whoa, kid! Easy!" Sodapop said suddenly as I jolted upright and backed up further. He grabbed my shoulders. "Easy! Relax."

I could already feel the tears stinging my eyes and I tried to shove him away. Why wasn't I awake yet? Why was I still dreaming? Why did my face still hurt? Was I stuck in some kind of coma? _It doesn't connect! There's no logical explanation! _

"Please, please, I didn't do it, I swear," I choked out. "Oh God, don't punch me again, please, don't hurt me." I started bawling again., shutting my eyes real tight and rocking back and forth. "I just want to wake up. _I just want to wake up_!"

"Relax, kid, we know it wasn't you!" Soda assured, his grip on my shoulders tighter. "Ponyboy—my brother—told me everything—Gosh, kid," he said suddenly, because my sobbing hadn't ceased although I wanted it to. He pushed my hair back. "You're acting like you're possessed!"

"Soda?" called a firm voice from somewhere I didn't know. "Is he awake?"

I recognized the voice immediately, and my mind went a little wild. _Darry! _Call me over reactive, but what would you do if you woke up and saw a fictional and almost-complete stranger lying on a bed near you, and heard the voice of a man who punched you, hard? I hadn't read the book far enough to make out the characters.

I pushed Soda and he kind of dropped back. Then I darted as fast as ever out the door. My eyes darted left and right until I saw what looked like an exit door. Lord knows what I'd do one I reached outside, but I felt like I needed to escape this house.

I was real close to the entrance, but then someone grabbed me from behind and held me up. I started kicking like crazy. My mind told me to relax, but my body was beginning to get the idea that someone was going to beat me up.

"You need to relax," the voice said. It was Darry. I opened my mouth to say something, but he continued, "So just calm down. I know it wasn't you who'd pulled that knife on Ponyboy, and we sure ain't gonna hurt you either way, so _calm down._"

Something about listening to that guy made me relax. I let my muscles unwind and Darrel put me down. He spun me around to face him and then gave me a firm, expecting look, with his eyebrows raised. I could see Sodapop and Pony watching us out of the corner of our eyes. "Are you going to cool down?"

"Yeah, I'll—I'll chill," I said softly. He gave me a strange look, but nonetheless, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Uh—" I froze up. Should I tell them my name was Sophie? _No, _my conscious warned me, _you don't know them. They think you're a boy, let them think you're a boy. _

Darry raised his eyebrows higher, waiting.

"Uh—it's—I'm Ralph," I blurted, dropping my voice down a notch. "Ralph—er, I can't remember the rest of my name."

Darry gave me a slightly suspicious look, but he went on with the next question. "And where are you from, Ralph?"

I bit down on my lip, hard. If I told them I was from the future, they'd surely send me to an asylum right away. "I—I can't remember," I lied.

"What _do _you remember?"

My eyes welled again. Oh God, what was wrong with me? I remembered home, sweet, home, and my sweet, loving parents, who I loved despite my annoyance for their yelling. I would rather be back in my room, listening to them quarrel than be here, any day. Darry was still waiting. "Ralph?"

"I only remember my age," I lied. Well, it was kind of the truth. The only thing I remembered in the present time was my age and my name and my gender. Putting the future aside, that is. I had no knowledge of years before the 1960's.

"Okay, well, here's the deal," Darry said in a rather business-like tone. "You can stay here for the night. When you wake up tomorrow, if you remember anything at all, such as where you're from or whatever, tell us, we'll take you there, okay?"

_Great, _I thought glumly. _If this isn't a dream, I'm doomed to stay here forever. _

_Well, would you rather be stuck in the 1960's with some people or no one at all? _my conscience questioned me.

I sighed aloud. "Alright. Okay."

It was just for the night, right? Chances were, I'd wake up and find myself back at home, and this would all be one big, tangled web.

An hour had passed while I was in the Curtis house, and I had been sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper forward and backwards. So this couldn't have been a dream. It couldn't have been. _There's no way dreams are so accurate, down to every page in the newspaper._ And it really was 1966 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. _But this doesn't make sense…where's the logic? _I knew I was bound to wake up soon—hopefully after I went to bed—but this wasn't a dream, and therefore, I was unsure if I would even be able to wake up.

"Hey, Ralph, you hungry?" called Soda from in the kitchen.

"No," I called back. I shook my head hard, trying to ease my headache.

"You sure? There's some popcorn…"

"Maybe later," I replied, putting the newspaper down. I felt sticky and sweaty all over. I gathered all my courage and glanced across the room, where Pony was flipping through a book. He seemed like a real quiet kid. "Hey, Pony?" I whispered.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"Do you think—if it's not too much to ask—can I shower?"

Pony gave me a funny look. "Um, sure. Bathroom's straight ahead. I'll go get a towel for you. And there's a new toothbrush in the drawer, so you can take it."

_How kind._ I headed over to the bathroom, which was relatively clean. Ponyboy came to hand me my towel, and when I opened it up I saw he had wrapped it around a clean, huge, white T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

I stuck my head out the door. "Oh, uh, Pony, you didn't have to give me the, uh, clothes—I could've just worn my jeans and shirt to bed—"

"No, it's alright," he called. "The boxers have never been worn, by the way."

"Erm…" I blushed. _Oh, well, princess, _I thought glumly to myself. _If you're going to pretend to be a boy, you're going to have to dress like one, too. _

I sighed and slipped out of my clothes. Then I walked over to the mirror I studied my face. What I saw almost made me scream.

"Holy fudge…" I thought, staring at my face in disbelief. The skin around my eye socket had completely swollen, and it was a sick, nasty purple color that faded into sallow yellow around the edges. I touched it, and then winced as my entire eye throbbed. It was a miracle I could see through that eye. I looked ugly. I even looked like a boy. Well, more of a boy than I already do.

I brushed my teeth and hopped into the shower and stayed in there for quite some time, letting the steam gloss over my skin. I liked long showers, and the water was very, very hot, just the way I liked it. Back in my apartment in New York, the water would only go a little warm, and then drop down to ice.

"Jesus Christ and Mother of God!" I heard a yell say from the door. "Did you start a fire in there?"

It was Sodapop. I felt embarrassed. "Uh, I'll be out in a minute!"

I quickly turned off the pipe and slipped into my clothes. The shirt was huge, but it concealed anything that could've showed through. The boxers were breezy—I didn't know how men could stand them—but I felt some freedom. I rolled my clothes into a ball and decided that I would fold them and place them under my pillow when I slept. When I stepped out, Soda was giving me a funny grin. "Damn, what are you, a girl? I've never known any boy to shower that long."

I laughed weakly. "By the way, do you have any ointment or something that I could put on my eye? It looks nasty."

"Yeah, we do," Soda said, cocking his eyebrow. "Why use it though? It makes ya look tuff."

_It makes me look like a boy. _I touched my eye gingerly. "I just want it so that it would stop hurting me so much."

"Really?" Soda asked, as if he were mildly interested. "What does it feel like?"

"Like I've been hit with a brick," I replied dryly.

Soda laughed and slapped me on the back, hard, before stepping into the bathroom. "Good, 'cause that's exactly how Darry's punches are supposed to feel."

Despite that one part of my back was burning, I cracked a smile, shook my head, and sat back down on the couch.

The night flew by pretty quickly. We all ate dinner together, which was a hearty meal of four full chickens. I ate like a bird, and Soda teased me about it a little. I was really quiet. I mean, what could be more awkward? What possible conversation could I strike up? Especially with Darry. _Oh, hey, yeah, you punched me and everything but it's all good. _

At around ten thirty or so, Darry called quits for the night. He bade us goodbye (in which I just stared at him, feeling still a bit paranoid) and shuffled lazily into his room. Soda, Pony and I were watching some old scary movie on the small television—or, at least, I was pretending to. I was too busy worrying about the strange situation I was in. I was so eager to go to sleep so that I could find out whether or not I'd wake up from this odd dream. Or whatever it was. My heart was pounding in excitement as Soda laid down my options for the night—sleep-wise

"Well," he said, standing up and stretching, "We ain't got much of a big house, and I usually share the room with Ponyboy, but if you're more comfortable, I'll take the bed with Darry, and you can take the bed with Pony, if you think this couch is too rough or anything."

I can't express the amount of weirdness I felt right at that moment. Soda would be willing to share a bed with his older brother? Soda _already _shares a bed with his younger brother? I began to realize exactly what a different time period I was in. In my time, if you did that, you'd be called queer.

"Um, no, it's okay," I replied politely. I wouldn't dare to share a bed with Pony. "I'll take the couch."

And so Ponyboy brought me two pillows and a thin sheet, and I draped myself across the couch. They flicked off the lights, I tucked my clothes beneath the pillow, and I soon fell into a deep, dwelling sleep.

In my dream, I dreamt that the bed sheet slowly started to entangle around my limbs, and pretty soon, they turned smooth, soft, and teal. I was swimming in a sea! And for a couple of moments, I just lay there, staring at the stormy gray sky above, letting the sea lap over limbs, and then all of a sudden, a huge wave crashed over my body, sending me swimming frantically, gasping for air, and then soon, blended into the horizon, getting closer and closer, was an island, with purple mountains hugged by papery clouds. The wave was carrying me, and a faint song was nestled in the breeze, beckoning to me, asking me to allow myself to be free—how could I resist that beautiful siren's voice?—and I went limp, the waves sending me soaring high, and then suddenly—

"_Damn it!_" I hit the floor with a thud. My eyes searched blindly at the dimly lit living room. My heart dropped. I was still stuck in time. I felt like I could start crying right then and there, but for some weird reason, I just couldn't. It was out of tears. All I could do was frown really, really deeply.

"Ralph? Are you okay?"

The voice startled me and I turned my head a little and saw Pony behind me. "Huh? Oh—yeah…I'm fine…"

"You were having a nightmare," he explained to me, giving me a very funny look. I stood up slowly and stretched and yawned.

"Really?" The dream I had didn't feel like a nightmare, it was actually very, very warming. "How do you know?"

"You kept flinging your arms around you," Pony said with a little grin. I raised my eyebrows, thinking, _how long was this kid watching me for? _He must've realized how creepy he was starting to sound, because he quickly said, "I came out to watch the sunrise. And then you went all possessed."

I nodded and gazed out the window, where the sky was a beautiful, light shade of pink that blended peach mid-sky and finally a marvelous golden color straight down the horizon. I'd never seen a sunrise in New York before, so to see it here, in a less crowded city, was very lovely.

Pony seemed to read my mind. "It's so pretty." I turned and looked at him. He looked as if he was in the ultimate blissful world, with just him and his cozy little house and the sunrise.

"I've never really watched sunrises," I told him. Then I quickly added, "well, not that I remember of."

Pony smiled, his eyes still glued to the fast-fading dawn sky. "I kind of like sunrises and sunsets. But not many boys do." We said nothing for the next minute, and we just watched the sky slowly turn cerulean blue. When it all vanished, Pony sighed and looked down at his feet. _Dang, _I thought. _This kid is so…so…dreamy._

_"_Sorry about my brother," Pony said suddenly. "Darry, I mean. He's always been a little bit over protective of me."

_I'll say, _I thought wryly, but I only nodded. "It's okay. I would've probably done the same thing. But why were those guys jumping you?"

Pony shrugged. "Socials, they don't like us greasers. Think just because we're poor, we don't have any purpose." His face suddenly grew very grim. "It ain't fair."

I frowned. "That's terrible."

"I suppose you don't know if you're greaser or Soc?"

I shook my head. In my time, I'd probably be more middle-class. We stayed quiet for a little while more, and then Pony broke the silence.

"You know," started Pony, "you remind me of someone."

I wrinkled my nose. If he was going to tell me I looked like Betty Boop, I would tell him I heard that line a million times. But he thought I was a boy, and he probably wouldn't have guessed her. "Who?"

"My friend, Johnny," Pony replied softly.

I blinked and almost said, _You mean Johnny Cade? Tan, big-eyed Johnny? _But I remembered I wasn't technically supposed to know all of the gang, so I kept my mouth shut and let Pony continued.

"He's kind of quiet, like you," Pony explained, sitting on the couch. I sat on the other end. "And he's got big eyes."

"Me? _Quiet?_" I laughed a little, and Pony looked puzzled. There was no use in explaining that I was only really shy around boys. He'd think I was a nutcase.

"Hey," Pony said suddenly. "I forgot to ask. Do you remember anything else yet?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Well, I remember a couple of things," I added in, because I wanted to sound like I wasn't completely messed up, "like where I was born and what my favorite things are, but no more about where I lived and my family and stuff. I guess I'll have to go to the cops or something now?"

"Naw," he replied dismissively. "They'll kick you in a mad house. Your folks are probably lookin' for you, anyways, so we'll just wait. But today, I'm headin' over with my buddy Dally and Johnny to the Nightly Double. You wanna come?"

In all, complete, truthful honesty, I wasn't sure. I didn't fancy Dallas Winston too much, but Johnny seemed okay and Pony was a nice kid, and besides, I had nothing better to do all day, since I already knew Soda and Steve were going out with their girls and Darry had to work. So I decided to accept. "Okay, I guess I'll tag along. It won't bug your friends?"

Pony shook his head and stood up. "Well, I'm heading back to bed, since it's only five. Sorry for waking you up."

I leaned back against my pillows and pulled the sheets under my chin. "Nah, it's okay. Oh, and Pony?"

He stuck his head back out the door.

"I think it's cool how you like sunrises and sunsets," I said with a smile.

He smiled back and blushed a little, for whatever reason I don't know. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep for the next couple of hours.

* * *

><p><strong>Just to evaluate this: she is NOT going to start liking Ponyboy. I mean, he's like a year and a couple of months younger than her...which is not too bad, but also because it would be very weird...in ways I cannot say xD So yes, the next chapter will be much, much better, I promise, and problems with characters will ESCALATE! So...REVIEW and do take my poll :)<strong>


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